round down

these grey mornings
leave me tired
before the day has begun
dragging feet in mid september stupor
like too much wine
without the pleasantness of mild over indulgence . . .

the romans are still calling me to read
think
digest
argue
but old father time
keeps slipping away with his gift

i feel like C S L
that
reading is the main business of the day . . .
everything else is an interruption

i need to be clearer
concise
yet obtuse
convinced
poetic
artistic
mythical
mystical

i loved this quote i found this week:

Bob Dylan believes in God,
and Richard Dawkins is never going to win an argument against Bob Dylan,
cause you need a poet to discuss these things.
So let's just say I'm with Bob.

(Paddy McAloon,
prefab sprout vocalist, songwriter
and now semi recluse)

all this
evangelical lay it on the table, read the bible, get the answer stuff
i making me tired
so i think
i'll stop
and go
for a long walk

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